


Rhyme or Reason

by notoneforreality



Series: QB-B3 007 Fest 2020 [31]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest, 007 Fest 2020, 5+1 Things, Bond also knows poetry, Everyone else is confused, Gen, Poetry, Prompt Fill, Q likes literature, Quoting poetry, Team Q Branch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notoneforreality/pseuds/notoneforreality
Summary: Q likes his poetry, and he likes sharing it, especially when it's relevant. Not everyone appreciates it.Five times people were confused about Q quoting poetry, and one time they quoted it back.
Series: QB-B3 007 Fest 2020 [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795726
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Rhyme or Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Written for--  
> 31st July: Poetry Day;  
> This prompt from the 2020 anon list: Q and anyone else (Bond/M/Moneypenny/Tanner or all of the above) quoting poetry at each other. Extra kudos for "look on my works, ye mighty, and despair"

The four of them sit — Q, Eve, Bill, and M — and watch through a piggybacked connection to the cameras posted around the dockyard. The screen at the front of the room is split into six pictures, showing Bond from six different angles as he swivels, his gun up and ready. 

Q also has his laptop up on the table in front of him, but there’s not much he can do, not enough tech in the area for him to hop from one to another and cause problems on purpose. M sits at the head of the table with his fingers steepled in front of him, and Bill and Eve sit on the opposite side to 

“The bridges were unbuilt and trouble coming,” Q mutters. M looks at him but Q just shakes his head. It wasn’t so much a comment to the room as to the situation. The trained spy had indeed walked into the trap.

* * *

After working for forty straight hours, Q slumps in his chair, his eyes dry and stinging and his head pounding. The clock in the corner of his computer screen says it’s six am, which means the sun is just rising.

“The round Moon rolled behind the hill, as the sun raised up her head,” he says, absent-mindedly.

R frowns at him. “What?”

“She hardly believed her fiery eyes; for though it was day, to her surprise they all went back to bed!” 

At the end of the poem, R looks no more enlightened. “Right. Okay. I think it is time for you to go to bed.”

Q is exhausted, and he lets her steer him to the couch in his office. He can nap here until Bond checks in.

* * *

The relief that rushes through Q when Eve agrees to the deal makes him want to wax lyrical about her wondrous abilities at balancing budgets. So he does:

“From her lips ampersands and percent signs exit like kisses.”

Eva looks up at him, nonplussed, and narrows her eyes. “Is that supposed to be about me?”

“You are a wonder of organisation,” Q tells her. “And my budget and I love you very much, thank you!” And then he escapes before she can change her mind about doing his financial report for him.

* * *

Nothing ever goes well in the third floor conference room. Q is trying to get a connection to Double-oh Twelve but nothing’s going through, and he’s got a horrible sick weight in his chest.

“Do not pick up the detonator of the telephone,” he says when the emergency line rings. 

Tanner gives him a flat look and picks it up anyway. The conversation is short, but Tanner’s face still manages eight separate expressions of irritation, concern, and despair. Q continues the next line under his breath, “A flame from the last day will come lashing out of the telephone.”

When the call ends, Tanner turns to the room and tells them that Agent Cooper is dead.

“A dead body will fall out of the telephone,” Q says, and the whole room stares at him. He shrugs, a helpless gesture. “Do not pick up the telephone.”

* * *

There’s no rest for the wicked, or for those who fight it, and Q has been running another ridiculously long hand-on op. He makes sure Agent Gadhavi is safely on a plane home, and then braces himself against the desk, locking his elbows to keep himself up.

“It was not Death for I stood up, and all the Dead, lie down—” Q says. He feels more than a little like death, after thirty-eight hours stood over the War Table. 

Agent Carter materialises at his shoulder. Her girlfriend is still on the comms to Agent Constantin.

“Come on,” Bobby says. “R’s got Q-Branch handled. I’ll take you home.”

Q wants to argue, but he doesn’t even have enough energy left for that, and Bobby pulls him towards the lifts, towards a cab home, towards bed.

* * *

* * *

Bond stares at the scene. By the gate, a stone head lies half covered by moss, and Q huffs something that’s almost a laugh.

“Half sunk a shattered visage lies,” he says.

Bond hums. “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!”

Q blinks. “You know Ozymandias?” Then, because he slept well last night it’s been a while since he last needled Bond about his age: “Oh, I should have expected you were there when it was written.”

Bond’s expression isn’t visible, because the camera in the frame of his glasses only shows the view ahead of him, but Q can hear the faint touch of exasperation in his voice. 

“I studied English Literature in college,” he says. “I’m surprised you know it; when did you graduate from reading Biff, Chip and Kipper?”

This is why Q likes being on Bond’s comms. He grins and keeps working on finding a whole in the security before Bond decides to make one.

At least one someone in Six other than himself appreciates poetry.

**Author's Note:**

> Keep notes:  
> \--all poems except Ozymandias helpfully copied out from my poetry books (Auden, Plath, Hughes and Dickinson collections from the Poet to Poet series from Faber and Faber because I'm working my way to owning the whole set; Tolkien poem taken from The Lord of the Rings; Ozymandias taken from online because I lost the collection with it in from my first year of uni)  
> \--Not my first choice of Auden poem, but the best choice, obviously. I can't believe I forget there is literally a poem called The Secret Agent.  
> \--I will never be over Tolkien's version of Hey Diddle Diddle he's so Extra I love him  
> \--An Organising Woman was the first title for An Appearance and I feel like Moneypenny is very much an organising woman, even though I feel a little mean associating her with Plath's bitter poem about her husband's mistress (fuck Ted Hughes)(yeah I used one of his poems in this and what about it?)(we had to study both of them at A Level)  
> \--I always forget how much Hughes hated phones like okay damn we get it isn't poetry supposed to be subtle?  
> \--Quite surprised to find that 'Hope is the Thing with Feathers' is not in my Dickinson collection, but I did enjoy this poem  
> \--and of course Ozymandias as per the request - fun fact: Ozymandias was the first poem I studied at uni in our little intro seminar


End file.
